


An Exercise in Trust

by Invader_Grey



Series: Genderqueer Sam Winchester [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Genderqueer Sam Winchester, Knifeplay (mentioned), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nonbinary Character, Post-Episode: s03e16 No Rest For The Wicked, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Qenderqueer Character, Rated T for Allusions to Sex, Ruby (Supernatural) is Bisexual, Sam Gives Ruby a Haircut, Sam Winchester is a He/Him Lesbian, Sam Winchester's Hot Girl Summer, Trans Sam Winchester, cutting your girlfriend's hair is something that can actually be so intimate, probably tamer than the show though honestly, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29477841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invader_Grey/pseuds/Invader_Grey
Summary: In which Ruby asks Sam for a bit of a makeover.(Alternatively titled: "Ruby gets the Chop".)
Relationships: Ruby/Sam Winchester
Series: Genderqueer Sam Winchester [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129904
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	An Exercise in Trust

**Author's Note:**

> No one else is going to create the content that I need so I have to write it myself smh
> 
> Also small trigger warning for use of the d-slur- it's not used in any derogatory way and it's used by a wlw in the story and also I am a lesbian but like. Heads up if you need one <3

It was a lazy summer day when Ruby asked him, the kind that started well past noon. They were lying in bed, naked and sweaty and tangled in the sheets of one of a seemingly endless string of cheap-but-clean motel rooms, when she brought up her hair. Said something about really wanting to "nail this whole dyke thing”, and how it was getting too hot for long hair, anyway, and she could really use more than a trim. She mentioned, in a roundabout way, how expensive salons were these days, and didn't Sam have some scissors laying around somewhere? And she didn't make a big deal about it, and Sam believed her, always believed her, but he didn’t think that was all there was to it, either. He knew this was probably the first time since she’d died that a body had truly been hers, and he thought that she wanted to show that off. To make her own choices, and make this body feel more like her own. And there was no better or easier example of bodily autonomy than impulsively chopping your hair off- or, Sam guessed, having your girlfriend chop it off for you- so of course he was happy to help. He told her as much; he’d support her in whatever she wanted to do with her own body.

And if, privately, Sam was a little glad she hadn’t just asked him to shave it... well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like running his fingers through Ruby’s hair, or brushing it gently off her cheek when they kissed, or braiding it, nervously, occasionally, as they talked through their ongoing plan to kill Lilith. And he was better at working with long hair, anyway, since he’d mostly practiced on his own; the few times he’d cut Dean’s he’d always complained about having to sit still for so long, and that had been… who knows how long ago, now. (Sam certainly didn’t- he was trying not to think too much about Dean, not until he could do something. _If_ he could do something, which was looking increasingly unlikely.)

But Ruby didn’t complain about staying still in the wheeled desk chair they’d dragged onto the uneven tile of the motel’s bathroom floor. She’d just teased him about opening up his own salon, and kissed him once, lightly, before handing him the scissors, and then she waited patiently for Sam to get started. They hadn’t even bothered getting dressed- figured it would save time on laundry later, and it _was_ getting hot, even in the confines of the motel room- and so she sat there in nothing but one of the too-large pairs of his pajama pants that she’d claimed for her own, and he stood there in nothing but an old pair of boxers as he decided how to approach giving her the haircut she wanted. He took his time. There was an intimacy to it, he thought, that deserved to be savored. He massaged conditioner onto her scalp, and rinsed it off gently, and then he combed out her hair slowly, lovingly, until it was as flat as he could get it, before he made the first cut. He brushed the loose hair from bare shoulders.

Ruby had something to say about almost everything, and she wasn't often quiet, but she was for this. Like she could tell that Sam needed it. She didn’t make any snarky comments about his technique, like he had been worried she might (it was a baseless worry- she never picked at him about the things that really mattered- but it still tugged at the back of his mind), or asked him if he knew what he was doing. She just gave him affectionate, reassuring looks when his eyes met hers in the mirror, and lent an extra hand to hold up sections of her hair when he needed her to. It had the effect of creating their own little bubble, with only the sound of the scissors and the faint crooning of the clock radio in the next room. Just the two of them, the gathering piles of hair on the tile, and the feeling of cold metal in his hands, so close to the warmth of Ruby’s skin.

He thought of what they’d done the night before, and again early this morning- of his hands on her pale skin, of the knife that had sliced open her breast- and the way that she still trusted him so completely with a sharp object in his hand. How there was no doubt in her eyes that he would ever hurt her without her permission. It was a heady sensation, and it combined itself with the trust she was putting in him to help realize her self-image- like an extra set of hands on the pottery wheel- in a way that staggered him a little. Because he knew that this was more than a haircut, even if she’d never say it out loud; it was a reinvention, a celebration of Ruby having her own body with no one in her head but herself. To allow Sam to have a part in that was no small gesture, even without the sharp ‘snip’ of the scissors so close to her veins. The unspoken compliment that she’d liked his own hair enough to even ask him about this hadn’t hurt his ego, either, but the intimacy of it, the trust, was what compounded to the small sense of awe that he felt in his chest as he sheared away the damp weight of her curls and shaped them into something new.

It wasn't professional, but Ruby said she didn't want it to be. In the end it was about the length of a bob, reaching just past the curve of her jaw and maybe a little uneven in a way that he hoped looked intentional, and by the time Sam blow-dried her curls it poofed out so much that it made them both laugh. Ruby said it was no a big deal- that she’d just style it the next morning and it’d look fine- and she was right. In the morning, fresh from the shower and neatly styled, it looked pretty damn good. _She_ looked good, although to Sam that was always a bit of a given.

The first thing he did that morning was kiss her, hand at the back of her freshly bare neck, and he smiled into it. All this chaos, all of this evil in the world- and he still must have had some luck after all, to have ended up with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this one! If you have any thoughts drop a comment or find me on tumblr @dykecassandra!


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